Alarums and Excursions; then a Retreat. Enter a French Herald, with trumpets, to the gates. F. Her. You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,

And let young Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, in;
Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made
Much work for tears in many an English mother,
Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground:
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies,
Coldly embracing the discoloured earth;
And victory, with little loss, doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French;
Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed,
To enter conquerors, and to proclaim
Artur of Bretagne, England's king and yours.
Enter an English Herald, with trumpets.
E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring
your bells:

King John, your king and England's, doth approach,

Commander of this hot malicious day.

Their armours, that marched hence so silver

From first to last, the onset and retire
Of both your armies; whose equality
By our best eyes cannot be censuréd:
Blood hath bought blood, and blows have an-
swered blows;

Strength matched with strength, and power confronted power:

Both are alike; and both alike we like.

One must prove greatest: while they weigh so even, We hold our town for neither; yet for both.

Enter, at one side, KING JOHN, with his power,

ELINOR, BLANCH, and the Bastard; at the cther, KING PHILIP, LEWIS, AUSTRIA, and Forces.

K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?

Say, shall the current of our right run on? Whose passage, vexed with thy impediment, Shall leave his native channel, and o'er-swell With course disturbed even thy confining shores, Unless thou let his silver water keep

A peaceful progress to the ocean.

K. Phi. England, thou hast not saved one drop of blood,

In this hot trial, more than we of France:
Rather lost more. And by this hand I swear,
That sways the carth this climate overlooks,
Before we will lay down our just-borne arms
We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms
we bear,

Or add a royal number to the dead:
Gracing the scroll that tells of this war's loss,
With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.

Bast. Ha, majesty, how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire!
O, now doth death line his dead chaps with steel:
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs;
And now he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men,
In undetermined differences of kings.—
Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus?
Cry havoc, Kings! back to the stained field,
You equal potents, fiery-kindled spirits!
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The other's peace: till then, blows, blood, and
death!

K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit?

K. Phi. Speak, citizens, for England: who's your king?

1st Cit. The King of England, when we know the king.

K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up his right.

K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy, And bear possession of our person here: Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.

1st Cit. A greater power than we denies all this; And, till it be undoubted, we do lock

Our former scruple in our strong-barred gates:
Kinged of our fears; until our fears, resolved,
Be by some certain king purged and deposed.
Bast. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers
flout you, Kings;

And stand securely on their battlements
As in a theatre, whence they gape and point
At your industrious scenes and acts of death.
Your royal presences be ruled by me:
Do like the mutines of Jerusalem;

Be friends awhile, and both conjointly bend
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town:
By east and west let France and England mount
Their battering cannon, chargéd to the mouths,
Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawled down
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city :
I'd play incessantly upon these jades,
Even till unfencéd desolation

Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.
That done, dissever your united strengths,
And part your mingled colours once again;
Turn face to face, and bloody point to point:
Then in a moment fortune shall cull forth
Out of one side her happy minion;

To whom in favour she shall give the day,
And kiss him with a glorious victory.
How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?
Smacks it not something of the policy?

K. John. Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads,

I like it well.-France, shall we knit our powers, And lay this Angiers even with the ground; Then, after, fight who shall be king of it?

Bast. An if thou hast the metal of a king, Being wronged as we are by this peevish town, Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, As we will ours, against these saucy walls: And when that we have dashed them to the ground, Why then defy each other, and pell-mell Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell. K. Phi. Let it be so.--Say, where will you assault?

K. John. We from the west will send destruction Into this city's bosom.

Aust. I from the north. K. Phi. Our thunder from the south Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. Bast. [aside]. O prudent discipline! From north to south,

Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth: I'll stir them to it.-Come, away, away!

1st Cit. Hear us, great Kings: vouchsafe awhile

Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds,
That here come sacrifices for the field.
Perséver not, but hear me, mighty Kings.
K. John. Speak on, with favour: we are bent
to hear.

1st Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the lady Blanch,

Is near to England: look upon the years
Of Lewis the Dauphin, and that lovely maid.
If lusty love should go in quest of beauty,
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch?
If zealous love should go in search of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch?
If love ambitious sought a match of birth,
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch?
Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth,
Is the young Dauphin every way complete:
If not complete, O say he is not she:
And she again wants nothing, to name want,
If want it be not that she is not he:
He is the half part of a blesséd man,
Left to be finished by such a sle;
And she a fair divided excelience,
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.
O, two such silver currents, when they join,
Do glorify the banks that bound them in:
And two such shores to two such streams made

one,

Two such controlling bounds, shall you be, Kings,
To these two princes, if you marry them.
This union shall do more than battery can
To our fast-closed gates: for at this match,
With swifter spleen than powder can enforce,
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope,
And give you entrance: but without this match,
The sea enragéd is not half so deaf,
Lions more confident, mountains and rocks
More free from motion; no, not death himself
In mortal fury half so peremptory,
As we to keep this city.
Bast.

Here's a stay

That shakes the rotten carcase of old death
Out of his rags! Here's a large mouth, indeed,
That spits forth death and mountains, rocks and

seas;

Talks as familiarly of roaring lions
As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs!
What cannonier begot this lusty blood?
He speaks plain cannon, fire and smoke and
bounce;

He gives the bastinado with his tongue;
Our ears are cudgelled; not a word of his
But buffets better than a fist of France:
Zounds! I was never so bethumped with words
Since I first called my brother's father dad.

Eli. Son, list to this conjunction, make this

match;

Give with our niece a dowry large enough:
For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie
Thy now unsured assurance to the crown,
That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe
The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit.
I see a yielding in the looks of France:

Mark how they whisper: urge them while their souls

Are capable of this ambition:

Lest zeal, now melted, by the windy breath
Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse,

Cool and congeal again to what it was. 1st Cit. Why answer not the double majesties This friendly treaty of our threatened town? K. Ph. Speak England first, that hath been forward first

To speak unto this city. What say you?

K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely

son,

Can in this book of beauty read "I love,"
Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen:
For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers,

And all that we upon this side the sea
(Except this city now by us besieged)
Find liable to our crown and dignity,
Shall gild her bridal bed, and make her rich
In titles, honours, and promotions,
As she in beauty, education, blood,
Holds hand with any princess of the world.
K. Phi. What sayst thou, boy? look in the
lady's face.

Lew. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find
A wonder or a wondrous miracle,
The shadow of myself formed in her eye;
Which, being but the shadow of your son,
Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow.
I do protest I never loved myself

Till now infixéd I beheld myself
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye.

[Whispers with BLANCH. Bast. Drawn in the flattering table of her eye! Hanged in the frowning wrinkle of her brow' And quartered in her heart!—he doth espy

Himself love's traitor. This is pity now, That hanged, and drawn, and quartered, there should be,

In such a love, so vile a lout as he.

Blanch. My uncle's will in this respect is mine: If he see aught in you that makes him like, That anything he sees which moves his liking I can with ease translate it to my will: Or if you will, to speak more properly,

I will enforce it easily to my love. Further I will not flatter you, my lord, That all I see in you is worthy love, Than this, that nothing de I see in you (Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge)

That I can find should merit any hate.

K. John. What say these young ones? What

say you, my niece?

Blanch. That she is bound in honour still to do What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say.

K. John. Speak then, prince Dauphin; can you love this lady?

Lew. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love; For I do love her most unfeignedly.

K. John. Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine,
Maine,

Poictiers and Anjou, these five provinces,
With her to thee; and this addition more,
Full thirty thousand marks of English coin.—
Philip of France, if thou be pleased withal,
Command thy son and daughter to join hands.
K. Phi. It likes us well.-Young princes, close
your hands.

Aust. And your lips too; for I am well assured That I did so when I was first assured.

K. Phi. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your
gates,

Let in that amity which you have made;
For at Saint Mary's chapel, presently,
The rites of marriage shall be solemnised.—
Is not the lady Constance in this troop?
I know she is not; for this match made up
Her presence would have interrupted much.
Where is she and her son? tell me, who knows.
Lew. She is sad and passionate at your high-

ness' tent.

K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league that we have made

Will give her sadness very little cure.—
Brother of England, how may we content
This widow lady? In her right we came;
Which we, God knows, have turned another way,
To our own vantage.

K. John. We will heal up all,
For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Bretagne
And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town
We make him lord of.-Call the lady Constance :

Some speedy messenger bid her repair
To our solemnity.--I trust we shall,
If not fill up the measure of her will,
Yet in some measure satisfy her so
That we shall stop her exclamation.
Go we, as well as haste will suffer us,
To this unlooked-for unpreparéd pomp.

[Exeunt all but the Bastard.-The Citizens
retire from the walls.

Bast. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!
John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part:
And France (whose armour conscience buckled on;
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,
As God's own soldier!), rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil;
That broker that still breaks the pate of faith;
That daily break-vow; he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids
(Who having no external thing to lose
But the word maid,-cheats the poor maid of that);
That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commo-
dity,-

Commodity, the bias of the world;
The world, who of itself is peiséd well,
Made to run even, upon even ground,
Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent:-
And this same bias, this commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapped on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determined aid,
From a resolved and honourable war,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.—
And why rail I on this commodity
But for because he hath not wooed me yet?
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand
When his fair angels would salute my palm;
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar I will rail,
And say there is no sin but to be rich;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be
To say there is no vice but beggary.
Since kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain, be my lord! for I will worship thee. [Exit.

ACT

SCENE I.-Before Angiers. The French King's Tent.

Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY. Const. Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace!

False blood to false blood joined! gone to be friends!

Shall Lewis have Blanch; and Blanch those provinces ?

It is not so; thou hast mis-spoke, mis-heard ·
Be well advised, tell o'er thy tale again.
It cannot be thou dost but say 't is so.
I trust I may not trust thee; for thy word
Is but the vain breath of a common man.
Believe me I do not believe thee, man:
I have a king's oath to the contrary.
Thou shalt be punished for thus frighting me :
For I am sick, and capable of fears;
Oppressed with wrongs, and therefore full of fears;
A widow, husbandless, subject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears:

And though thou now confess thou didst but jest,
With my vexed spirits I cannot take a truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head?
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son?
What means that hand upon that breast of thine?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again : not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.

Sal. As true as, I believe, you think them false That give you cause to prove my saying true.

Const. O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die: And let belief and life encounter so As doth the fury of two desperate men, Which in the very meeting fall and die.—

Lewis marry Blanch! O boy, then where art thou? France friend with England! what becomes of me?

Fellow, be gone: I cannot brook thy sight:
This news hath made thee a most ugly man.

Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, done, But spoke the harm that is by others done? Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is, As it makes harmful all that speak of it.

Arth. I do beseech you, madam, be content. Const. If thou that bidd'st me be content wert

grim,

Ugly, and slanderous to thy mother's womb,
Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains,
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,
Patched with foul moles and eye-offending marks,
I would not care, I then would be content:
For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou
Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown.
But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy,
Nature and fortune joined to make thee great:
Of nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose. But fortune, O!
She is corrupted, changed, and won from thee;
She adulterates hourly with thy uncle John;
And with her golden hand hath plucked on France
To tread down fair respect of sovereignty,
And made his majesty the bawd to theirs.
France is a bawd to fortune and King John:
That strumpet fortune, that usurping John!—-
Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn?
Envenom him with words; or get thee gone,
And leave those woes alone which I alone
Am bound to under-bear.